p. 12 | REAL FRIENDS by Emma Graves Dietrick

Pacific Press Publishing Company · Oakland, California · Aug 9, 1899

FromSigns of the Times, Vol. 25, No. 32.

REAL FRIENDS.

By Emma Graves Dietrick

[By Emma Graves Dietrick, in Christian Work.]

"YOU'LL catch it when your mother sees you," said Joe to Charlie, as the latter picked himself slowly from the ground, and ruefully eyed a jagged hole in his new trousers and the mud that was literally plastered over his clothes. But Charlie answered, "Humph, you don't know my mother."

"I'll bet she'll give you a regular scolding," replied Joe.

"My mother never scolds," said Charlie; she'll say, 'Well, I guess you've had a tumble; did you hurt yourself, dear?'"

Joe looked in open-mouthed amazement at his friend, and said, slowly, "Do you mean that she'll really think about you first, before

she talks about the mud and the hole?" To which Charlie rather indignantly replied: "Of course I do. My mother knows I wouldn't tear my clothes and roll in the mud on purpose. You want to remember that my mother and I are more than just related to each other—we're real friends."

How many boys can say that? If yours can not, be sure there is a grave mistake somewhere.

It is true that a mother must guide, control, advise, or command, as the occasion requires, but to degenerate into either a servant or an officer is to abuse God-given opportunities.

A problem worthy of the careful, prayerful study of every mother is, How can I be "real friends" with my boy?

Would you like to know how one mother did? She believed that there is no need of a boy's being rude, boisterous or mean, and finding excuse in the oft-repeated phrase, "that's the boy of it." Therefore in that home the boys received habitual courtesy from their mother; not a servile attention, but graceful, dignified politeness, that by its own heartiness won a response in kind. Did a boy friend come to the door, he was genially welcomed, and made to feel so much at home that he was glad to come again. Sometimes her own boys grew tired of being quiet, and the mother would suggest that they run out and ask three or four other boys in for some fun. This did not mean a back room or an attic, by any means; for how could they learn cultivated manners that way? If possible, it was the parlor, and mother was the life and heart of it all. Games and jolly times were theirs, and because boys do dearly love something nice to eat, there was always a simple but plentiful lunch. They were people of very limited means, and economy was necessary. Three or four eggs boiled hard, then grated fine, seasoned with salt and a little melted butter, and spread between thin slices of bread and butter, then cut into triangles and piled upon one of the prettiest plates, made sandwiches that the boys pronounced "just swell." These, with a cup of chocolate for each, made them all happy; and served, as it always was, in the prettiest dishes, and with just as graceful courtesy as if they were guests of social distinction, do you wonder the boys and their friends grew manlier and truer? Sometimes it was only apples and pop-corn, or a dish of nuts, or lemonade and wafers, but one never-failing condition was the dainty service.

No wonder that this mother's boys thought home the loveliest place in all the world, and proudly spoke of her as "our best girl." Do you say they were exceptional boys? No, not at all, except as this treatment developed the manliest traits of character.

Perhaps you think this mother had plenty of time, while you are far too busy to "bother with the boys." But this mother did all the housework for a family of six, not even having help for washing and ironing. Nearly all the family sewing, too, was done by her busy fingers. A share in church work, a large class in Sunday-school, and many another outside demand kept her every moment busy. But to her mind the most important duty of her life was to keep the close, loving confidence of her boys. Whatever interested them they expected her to enjoy also—and she did.

It pays to be "real friends" with the boys. It can not be done by spasmodic effort—it takes steady living. But is it not what God designs for us?

Real friendship is nearer than kinship. "I have called you friends," is Christ's tenderness saying to His disciples.

To feed and clothe and reprove is not a mother's highest duty; but while these may not be neglected, let her rather strive to bind her children to her heart in a friendship so true that nothing can shake it, and so strong that it will last into eternity.